The Night of the Kilt
by MissRedhead82
Summary: Jim and Artie are getting ready for a party for the Earl of Glasgow. Yes, this is complete. It is one of the shortest short stories around I'll wager. Previously published other places on the web. Eventually I will post something new ;-)


The Night of the Kilt

"Artie, you don't actually plan on wearing that to meet the Earl of Glasgow's party, do you?"

James West and Artemus Gordon were in their private train car, sitting on a siding in Washington, preparing to greet and escort the Earl of Glasgow and his entourage who were in turn escorting some of Scotland's most valuable treasures to certain capitals around the world. James West was in the process of putting his cufflinks on when his partner strolled into the parlor. West glanced up from his cuffs with a smile to greet his partner but his friendly stance turned to one of incredulity when his eyes traveled down from his partner's unusual hat to his partner's unusual socks and shoes. His eyes were almost pleading as far as Jim West's eyes could be when he voiced his question.

"Of course, James! Why, is there a ripped seam somewhere?" Artemus Gordon jovially asked as he adjusted the sporran around his waist and inspected the pleats of his kilt.

James West continued to stare at his partner as if Artemus had grown a third arm. "Well for starters Artie," West tried to school his voice while he tried to convince his partner to dress normally. "The year is 1874 if you haven't noticed, not the middle ages."

"Now James, don't be sarcastic. Scotsmen still wear kilts for formal occasions and this is a very formal occasion," Artie said somewhat indignantly and gestured to West's own tux. "Besides, the Gordon clan silk tartan is formal. It's not like I'm wearing the hunting tartan," he grinned devilishly.

Jim still tried to persist in convincing his partner to dress normally, like himself. "Second, what will President Grant say when we show up escorting the Earl's party and you're half naked?" West ducked his chin down, raised his eyebrows as he glanced up at his partner's face and gestured to his partner's bare knees. "Grant is liable to have you suspended for insubordination if you show up dressed like that."

Jim watched his partner's kilt sway about his partner's knees as Artie turned and strode over to the tiny bar. He wasn't gaining any ground in trying to get his partner out of that silly thing and for some reason he could not draw his eyes away despite seeing his partner in less dressed states when tending to his partner's wounds from previous missions.

Artemus adjusted his tam to a jaunty angle and poured himself a malt whiskey. "Are you kidding James? The President is probably wearing a kilt too."

"Artie, you're not even Scotch! Neither is the President!"

"James, laddie, don't ever say Scotch again. It's Scot, Scotsman or Scottish okay? Unless you want to insult our honored guests, that is. Here, have yourself a drink and calm down. It's gonna be alright laddie. Gordon and Grant are surnames of Scottish origin, you know."

Jim West ran a hand down his face and took the proffered drink from his partner and collapsed on the settee. "Fine, you can wear the costume. It's your head, but please, don't use the brogue."

"Wha's the matter with me brogue laddie," Artemus swung around the settee, his kilt swishing around his knees, and sat down on the facing settee with his own drink and a devilish gleam in his dark eyes. Goading his typically impassive partner was one of his favorite pastimes.

"No. Seriously. Don't use the brogue," James West gave his partner what he hoped was a commanding look. He was willing to put up with his partner's insane desire to wear a short plaid skirt, but he was not going to put up with Artie's false brogue for the entire visit. No way.

Artemus swirled his glass thoughtfully. Jim did say please after all and that in and of itself was something major. "Fine, I'll drop the brogue but I'm still going to wear the Gordon clan tartan," Gordon said in his normal voice.

Jim released a breath of relief. "Good." West got up and took his cloak and his partner's from the coat rack. "You're not going to wear that the entire time they're here, are you," he asked as he handed Artemus his cloak, glancing once more at his partner's bare knees and shaking his head.

"Oh no, I can't wear the same clothes for two weeks straight," Gordon said as he accepted his cloak.

Jim smiled, much relieved, as he draped his own cloak over his shoulders.

"I have several more kilts of the Gordon clan tartans in the closet," Gordon grinned broadly as he grabbed his walking cane and marched out the door humming "Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond."

Jim closed his eyes briefly and fervently prayed that either his partner was joking or at least was not planning on wearing the other kilts for the entire two weeks of the Earl's visit. Taking a breath, Jim opened his eyes and followed his partner outside, locking the parlor car door behind him. This was going to be a long two weeks if Artie didn't knock it off. 


End file.
